


Three times, the forge

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alcohol, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), First Kiss, In which an ancient Elf acts like a dorky teen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6591325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrimbor kisses Narvi. Narvi kisses Celebrimbor. Somehow, Celebrimbor is still perplexed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three times, the forge

The first time Celebrimbor kissed Narvi, he was drunk.

He was drunk and sitting on the floor of the forge, disheveled and happy and singing songs, his hair wisping out of his braids in the way that always used to make his father tsk at him, and it had been a good day, and there had been even better beer. So when Narvi strode over, grinning at his loose limbed friend, and bent down to refill his tankard, Celebrimbor grabbed him by the beard and kissed him.

Then he remembered himself, and released the beard very quickly. He released Narvi’s lips somewhat more slowly.

Narvi straightened up, rubbing his hand over his chin. He didn’t truly react for a moment, other than looking at Celebrimbor with surprised brown eyes. Celebrimbor blinked, and Narvi said, “Well. What was that all about?”

“I wanted to see what it was like,” said Celebrimbor, feebly. “To kiss someone with a beard.”

Narvi’s expression didn’t shift. “How was it?”

“Bristly,” said Celebrimbor, bringing his hand up to his mouth to brush at the memory still prickling there.

“Yes,” Narvi agreed.

“But your lips are soft,” said Celebrimbor, more quietly, and Narvi filled his flagon without another word.

In the morning, Celebrimbor fried them both a dozen eggs as a hangover cure and an unspoken apology.

* * *

The first time Narvi kissed Celebrimbor, it was once again in the forge. Of course it was in the forge, Celebrimbor thought later; when were they ever elsewhere?

This afternoon, Celebrimbor was not drunk, but he was excited. He was also yelling, and dancing around waving his bellows like a conductor, periodically swearing in such glee that he felt compelled to use the curses he’d learned from his uncle.

“By the swinging balls of Nahar, did you see that reaction, Narvi? I mean did you _see_ it? Somewhere Aulë is smiling on me, this I am sure – Perhaps it is because of you, I have always said you brought me luck. This is going to revolutionize materials engineering, I swear to Eru, I cannot believe – ”

When his joyful strides brought within reach of the stool where Narvi was perched, laughing, he slowed in his wild gesticulating somewhat. And as soon as he lowered his arms, Narvi reached out, caught him by the chin, and kissed him.

Celebrimbor stumbled, swallowed an exclamation of surprise, and brought his hands down to grasp the sides of the stool to keep himself from falling. His hair fell over his shoulders, the dark strands catching in the bronze of Narvi’s beard. Narvi carefully finished kissing him, and then pulled back. Celebrimbor stayed where he was, hands braced on either side of Narvi’s legs, bent down so they were face to face, staring wide-eyed at the Dwarf.

“What was that for?” he said at last, when he’d found his tongue.

“You’re very beautiful when you’re happy,” said Narvi, simply, and Celebrimbor flushed.

“I should put the equipment away,” he said and straightened up, brushing his hair behind his ear. Then he turned and promptly dropped the bellows into the water barrel in his distraction, Narvi’s low chuckle rolling out behind him.

* * *

The third time, they were poring over the plans to the gates of Moria.

Narvi’s eyes were shining with enthusiasm and his fingers were flying over the drafting paper, sketching out ideas and jotting down figures, but Celebrimbor’s attention was not on the blueprints. Narvi was brilliant, and Narvi was blazing in his excitement, and Celebrimbor leaned over the table and kissed him.

It was a good kiss.

It was a bristly kiss, but then, Narvi’s lips were very soft, and opened beneath Celebrimbor’s in a singularly appealing way.

This time, Narvi closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, reaching out to cup Celebrimbor’s cheek, cradling his face in one broad hand. Celebrimbor pressed forward eagerly, shifting slightly to get around the table without rumpling the drafts. Narvi made a soothing noise and his fingers slid up to trace Celebrimbor’s ear, and Celebrimbor reached forward to clutch at the front of Narvi’s tunic and draw him close, anxious to know the taste of his tongue.

Narvi never let him wonder too long.

When they finally broke apart, Narvi’s cheeks were ruddy and Celebrimbor’s breath was coming fast.

“Well, lad,” said Narvi softly, and touched his thumb to Celebrimbor’s cheekbone.

Celebrimbor made a sound like ‘Ooof,’ and dropped to the ground.

Narvi looked down at him.

“You always call me ‘lad’, as though I were younger than you,” said Celebrimbor, to the ceiling. “When I am a very, very old man compared to you, Dwarf.”

“I call you ‘lad’ because you may be old as bones but at your brightest and most joyful, you act like a boy.” Narvi nudged him with the toe of his boot. “I number it among my favorite things about you, Elf. Now, what was that about? This time,” he added, softly.

Celebrimbor sat up and looked at him. “You’re very beautiful when you’re happy, too,” he said seriously, and then laid his head in Narvi’s lap. “You’re very beautiful at all times, actually,” he said, now addressing the far wall. “I don’t know why it took me so long to – My father always said I was bad at reading things. Situations. Atmospheres. People. Myself.”

“Your father was wrong about a lot of things,” said Narvi, touching the clasps he’d given Celebrimbor for his last begetting day, and which now held Celebrimbor’s dark braids out of his face. “Your reading comprehension is just fine.”

“Things that come in threes are very pleasing,” said Celebrimbor, his cheek still resting against the warmth of Narvi’s thigh. “I have a recurring dream about three bright…things, that come to me. Sometimes they are already in my palm. Ill luck comes to me in sevens, but good things come in threes.” He stroked his fingers over the smooth leather of Narvi’s trousers. “Those were three very good kisses,” he mumbled.

“I have to say that is a shame,” said Narvi, and Celebrimbor looked up at him, his dark brows drawing together in consternation. “You finding good things in threes.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I have no intention of leaving you kissed but three times,” said Narvi, and bent down to prove his point.

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. I stand squarely by my conviction that Narvi was Celebrimbor's healthiest relationship by a factor of lots.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Three times, the forge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461124) by [Chestnut_filly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chestnut_filly/pseuds/Chestnut_filly)




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